Quinn Shepherd was momentarily stunned. The girl looked familiar, but in that urgent moment, he couldn’t place her. Swept forward by the crowd, she waved as she walked: "Cowherd, where do you live? I’ll come find you!"
Imperial Academy!
Quinn waved back, then a flash of realization struck him: "That's it—she's Lynn Ling! But why does she seem a bit different now?"
Back then, Lynn Ling had been about the same height as he was, but now she was a little taller—even a head or two above Quinn. She’d grown into a graceful young lady, so striking that he almost didn’t recognize her when she waved from the crowd.
"At least her cheeks are still plump—that hasn’t changed," Quinn said with relief.
The palace physicians looked at him strangely. The elder Dr. You, kindly but worried, reminded him, "Little divine physician, if you talk about a girl like that—especially a princess—you could lose your head."
Quinn was puzzled. "Why? In the Great Ruins, when we praise a girl’s looks, it’s because she’s strong and can bear children. Princess Lynn Ling may not be strong, but she’s a little plump. I think she should be able to have children."
Is that really something you say to praise a girl?
The old physicians exchanged knowing glances, all with the same expression: this kid is hopeless. He’s bound to be beaten to death sooner or later.
Dr. Mu said, "Little divine physician, let’s get back to the Imperial Academy. After a night like this, us old bones are about ready to fall apart."
After leaving the palace, Quinn parted ways with the imperial physicians and returned to Flower Lane. He ate breakfast at Listening Rain Pavilion, said goodbye to Serena Vale and the girls, picked up his luggage, and took Lina the Spirit Fox back to the Imperial Academy.
Imperial Academy, Scholars’ Quarters.
Quinn headed toward his own courtyard, Lina the Spirit Fox poking her head out of his pack, curiously looking all around.
From a distance, Quinn saw several rows of scholars sitting in front of his courtyard. They sat upright and stern, each with a sword case at their side, their left hands resting on the cases and their faces grave.
The leader called coldly toward the courtyard, "Abandoned one, you should be awake by now, right? Or are you afraid of us? If you’re scared, then come out and erase the words you wrote on the wall!"
Another scholar sneered, "We have plenty of patience. If you dare, hide in your room for life. I’d like to see how long you can keep it up!"
"Weren’t you so arrogant yesterday? You actually exposed the ambush against us, made the whole Imperial Academy find out, and made us lose face. Now you’re hiding inside, are you going to be a turtle forever?"
"The reason we left your words on the wall is to shame you—so you know disgrace! Let the whole academy see you’re just an abandoned person from the wilds, while we’re the real deal!"
...
Quinn walked straight past them, puzzled: "When did I ever spread that story?"
The scholars stared in shock as he calmly opened his own door and went inside. They’d assumed Quinn was hiding, but he’d actually just returned from outside, leaving them shouting at an empty house all morning.
Inside, Quinn dropped his pack and said, "Lina, tidy up the room and make the bed. I’m heading out for a bit."
Lina the Spirit Fox replied, "Where are you going, young master?"
Quinn didn’t look back. "They’re too noisy. If I don’t beat them up, I won’t be able to sleep."
Lina could only summon a breeze and start tidying the room. Just then, a thunderous boom shook the air. Lina peered through the window and saw a scholar launched skyward, falling headfirst to the ground.
"Next," came Quinn’s voice from outside.
Thunder roared, like a bolt from the blue. Lina heard a whistling rush—probably the sound of bodies being flung through the air—but couldn’t see anyone flying, only heard distant crashes as heavy things hit.
"Next," Quinn called again.
Water thundered, waves crashed, and a scream echoed before everything went quiet—except for Quinn’s voice: "Next."
Lina rushed to tidy up, made the bed, unpacked the luggage, and thought, "If I finish fast enough, maybe I’ll get to see the show outside!"
Outside, the sounds of collisions and screams shook the air. By the time Lina finished tidying, she rushed out excitedly—only to see Quinn already coming back inside, looking a little tired.
"Is it over, young master?" Lina asked, disappointed.
Quinn nodded, yawned, and said, "I'm tired. Going to nap for a bit—don't run around."
Lina nodded, poked her head outside, and was startled. The Scholars’ Quarters roads were littered with unconscious scholars—some sprawled on the ground, some hanging from walls, some dangling upside-down from trees, some embedded in distant walls, some half-submerged in roadside ditches, and some planted in the soil with only twitching legs sticking out.
Lina stuck out her tongue and dashed over, rifling through the scholars’ pockets for jade pendants, spirit pills, bracelets, hairpins, and other valuables, then carried them back into the house.
"Lina, what are you doing?" came Quinn’s drowsy voice from inside.
Lina replied confidently, "The Demon Ape said: win, rob, that’s the rule."
Quinn was already snoring, apparently hadn’t heard her. Lina went out again to collect sword cases. One scholar weakly grabbed his case as she tried to take it.
Lina spat out a whirlwind, snatched the sword case, and smashed it into the scholar’s head. Bloodied, he still wouldn’t faint, so she hit him a few more times until he finally passed out. Lina sighed in relief and dragged the case inside. The scholar cracked his eyes open, saw the fox leaving, and relaxed.
"Oh, he’s awake again!"
Lina spotted him peeking, squealed, and conjured a tornado to lift a boulder the size of a hill, ready to smash him. Terrified, the scholar instantly fainted for real—this time from sheer fright.
Lina set down the stone and skipped off, pillaging as she went. She wandered farther and farther, until another scholar woke up in the distance. Seeing the fox looting valuables, he scrambled to crawl away, but Lina dragged him back to the Scholars’ Quarters. He howled all the way, then fell silent—knocked out by the fox.
Imperial Preceptor’s Manor.
The manor was grand and lavish, but the Imperial Preceptor’s cultivation hall was starkly simple—a single vast, empty great hall.
If you looked up, you’d see a spectacular sight: no ceiling above, only a dome, and countless stars hanging so low they seemed within reach.
It was all the work of an array.
Ten thousand feet overhead, the array floated, paved with transparent glass. Several disciples of the Imperial Preceptor operated the formation, which spanned a thousand acres and gathered starlight, channeling it straight down through the glass into the hall’s dome.
The Imperial Preceptor cultivated by harvesting starlight, which was why his power was so formidable.
At the moment, the Imperial Preceptor’s breath was weak—he was recuperating, with a black-clothed man beside him, adjusting medicines.
Suddenly, a red flying insect darted in from outside, landing by the black-clothed man’s ear. His face was covered in toad-like warts, making him look grotesque. He nodded repeatedly, as if understanding the insect’s report—a truly bizarre sight.
"Imperial Preceptor, my junior has arrived."
The black-clad man was the so-called Little Poison King mentioned by the Dowager Empress, named Warren Foyne. He said, "He cured the Thousand-Mechanism Poison afflicting the Dowager Empress."
The Imperial Preceptor opened his eyes, exhaled a mouthful of blood, and asked in confusion, "How do you know it was your junior who cured the Thousand-Mechanism Poison?"
"Thousand-Mechanism Poison is my master’s proud creation. In this world, only he and I can resolve it."
Warren Foyne’s warty face twitched as he said calmly, "The insect told me the healer was a youth—clearly not my master, so it must be his new disciple. I thought he was dead; turns out he’s alive and has trained a junior. Imperial Preceptor, the Dowager Empress’s poison is cured. Should I administer another rare toxin?"
The Imperial Preceptor shook his head. "There’s no need."
Warren Foyne was puzzled.
"Her Majesty the Dowager Empress and I have no personal grudge. Years ago, she opposed my reforms for the sake of her son’s throne. His Majesty also hesitated, so I had you poison her—not to kill, but to keep her from meddling in politics. Without her interference, His Majesty could focus on reform. Now my position is secure; half the court supports reform."
The Imperial Preceptor continued, "Those who oppose me are now taking the chance to rebel and cause trouble. The general trend is set; even Her Majesty the Dowager Empress can’t stop me now."
Warren Foyne smiled, "You care about the general trend; I care about personal grudges. You’re almost healed, so I have no reason to stay. Since my junior is here, as his senior I should go meet him."
The Imperial Preceptor warned, "Be careful. Her Majesty the Dowager Empress can’t harm me, but she could still have you killed."
Warren Foyne hesitated, his warty face twitching. "You ordered the poisoning—so why kill me instead of you? How am I the guilty one?"
"You betrayed your master—have you forgotten? Besides, the Dowager Empress had a complicated relationship with your master. She’s clever; she’ll know it was your junior who cured her, and you’ll seek him out. She’s waiting for you to take the bait—then she’ll kill you for revenge, and for your master as well."
Warren Foyne’s head drooped—he had no choice but to drop the idea.